


Englishman in New York

by written_in_blood



Series: Galahad, the Ambassador [1]
Category: Kingsman (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Arthur!Harry Hart, Character Death Fix, Confessions, Crossover, First Kiss, Fix-It of Sorts, Galahad!Eggsy, M/M, Minor Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 05:03:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13540266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/written_in_blood/pseuds/written_in_blood
Summary: He was lingering by the bar of some american billionaire's party under the guise of a british newspaper reported with extended access (props to Merlin, that brilliant bastard). Now that he pondered the issue, a martini in his left hand with no desire to drink it, he came to the conclusion that there were too many billionaires in america.OrEggsy is sent to a mission in New York to clean a circulation of left over tech from the V-day massacre, simple gathering of names, then he would be flown home. What he -or even Merlin for that manner- didn't expect was Eggsy's accidental fight of an Avengers agent, or more specifically, the Black Widow herself.





	Englishman in New York

**Author's Note:**

> Forewarning: Harry is alive, so is Coulson

If Merlin would stop talking, Eggsy would be able to focus on the objective. But no, there was that all too familiar, calming scottish drawl humming in the back of his ear as he fought for consciousness after 36 hours continuously awake for debrief.

Of course, he could have slumped down in his seat in the jet on the way over afterwards, listen to Rox ramble on about Duchess over the phone as he took a nap but his anxiety was buzzing, keeping him awake.

It was like that for weeks in the beginning, extended periods of time wide awake in anticipation before a mission before crashing so hard even his nightmares of fireworks and blood could not reach him.

It got better over time, with Arthur -Harry bloody Hart, who had survived the earth-shatteringly close bullet to the fucking face and came stumbling back to Kingsman after two months, three days and nine hours (not that Eggsy was counting) in a hospital in Middle-of-Nowhere-America, and was deemed well enough for the high position but not cooperating with his depth perception well enough to return to the field- helping him to calm down post-mission.

So when it was announced he had to travel over to America, flown there by Morien out of Merlin’s minions, the one pilot he could stand for this type of flight, he was ready to jump out of his skin at first touchdown.

And now he was lingering by the bar of some american billionaire's party under the guise of a british newspaper reported with extended access (props to Merlin, that brilliant bastard). Now that he pondered the issue, a martini in his left hand with no desire to drink it, he came to the conclusion that there were too many billionaires in america.

They were like pocket change, Roxy had told him in one of her rare drunken rambles, annoying and mostly disappointing until they are large enough.

“Not enjoying the party?” An american voice asked him -wow, an american in america, that should be his ‘story’- and Eggsy turned around.

A short, well dressed man with a gaudy goatee and perfectly tailored suit though not to Kinsman standard though Eggsy was a wee bit biased, was standing beside him, loosely clutching a champagne glass. Old, industrial money if Eggsy had to guess.

“S-Sorry, sir. I am, I am just not used to so many people,” Eggsy muttered as he dropped very quickly into Oliver Tumblin, meek newspaper reporter from the estates. He pulled his shoulders back, slumping against the bar minutely.

The man laughed clearly, a smirk growing on his face. “That’s okay. I totally get it, kid. I don’t like large crowds.” he fake whispered the last part leaning in. “But don’t tell anyone, don’t want my rep’ getting ruined.”

Eggsy forced as natural a laugh as he could. “No problem, Mister…”

The man looked slightly shocked for a moment before recovering quickly. “Stark. Tony Stark, Mister...Tumblin?” He read the name off Eggsy’s fake reporters badge pinned to his suit.

Eggsy nodded. “Oliver, if you would. Ma’ Pa’s Mister Tumblin, Mista’ Stark.”

Stark laughed again, returning the nod. “Oliver, it is. What’s a boy like you doing all the way across the pond?”

Eggsy pretended to stammer, burying his face in his suit jacket for a moment as his martini glass set on the bar’s counter. “Frankly, I don’t know. Ma boss said to jump and I didn’t wait until the plane took off to ask ‘ow high.” Playing the nervous uni student was Harry’s -Arthur’s, when Eggsy was in mission mode- idea to throw any potential Valentine sympathisers off Eggsy’s very obvious british trail.

Months after the disaster and they were still cleaning up the mess like a red streak left too long to soak into fabric, a messy stain.

Valentine left his mark on the world, no matter how many agents that lost their lives in the crossfire, or the combatants of modern technology. That mad genius had to go and ruin phones and the simple concept of trust for everyone.

“So you don’t have a set paper topic?” The man questioned and it didn’t take a superspy, though it did take this one particularly, to notice the stares they were getting.

Perhaps his conversational partner was famous. The money practically gleaning off the man seemed to scream ‘celebrity’ but Eggsy gave it the benefit of the doubt. Either way, he would ask Merlin, who had gone suspiciously quiet when Stark approached, when the other man walked away.

Eggsy shook his head lazily. “I just go ‘ere I’m told. ‘opefully, they ask me to write sumthing ‘ver that statue out front. God knows I spent enough time starin’ at it.”

It truly was an ugly statue but that didn’t matter; the engineering of the large metal structure intrigued the Eggsy that never got to pursue his love of angles and maths. Not that he would admit it. Charlie had pinned him an inbred idiot and that became his cover to protect his mentality as well as his body under stray fists.

Long before Charlie was Dean who let his blows land heavy, and Poodle who had thought his homework was something to laugh over and rip up to watch his eyes grow wet.

But it became habit, even after Dean was arrested for more charges than Eggsy could count. He was just so used to hiding everything that was something specifically  _ him _ because it made no sense in his own personality. What use was a love of maths when you took or dealt punches for a living?

_ “Boyo, KGB agent entered through exit 4, to your seven o’clock. God, Galahad, don’t turn,”  _ Merlin suddenly spoke in his ear and it took everything in Eggsy not to flinch at the implication. KGB getting involved in something this deep, as small as this mission was for the Galahad name, was dangerous. Deadly dangerous.

“Excuse me, Mista’ Stark, I ‘ave to go to ta restroom.” The other man nodded his farewell, lingering by the bar to call for a refill. “Merlin, where are my eyes?”

The scot promptly responded with that scorching professionalism that left Eggsy wide awake. God, did he miss field missions.  _ “Redhead by the fountain. Blue blouse and silver heels, Galahad. Agent Natasha Romanoff, KGB with a longer list of red than Arthur’s hospital reports for the last year alone. Alias unknown. Don’t engage unless necessary.” _

The reference to Arthur’s medical history was a perfect example of a human mess. Eggsy was surprised, as he had told the man himself when he was given the files under Arthur’s careful eye, that he was not being held together by pins and duct tape at this point.

So with that many scars and broken bones that would be trillions in hospital bills in the real world, ledgers marked in comparison was bloody impossible.

But Eggsy was already following the woman the woman through a conspicuous door behind a group of politicians.

Rationally, Eggsy should have known that a KGB would recognize a tail for its face value. Rationally, Eggsy would’ve pulled back to the actual restroom to go through the photos again and plan his next move. Rationally, Merlin should’ve been more panicked at the prospect of Eggsy’s lack-of-impulse-control taking over.

So in reality, Eggsy knew he deserved the punch that he got the second the door closed.

He snapped out of Oliver Tumblin in a split second after, catching a second fist to be yanked forward, thrown over the agent’s left shoulder. Eggsy bit back a scream as he landed harshly on the tile but managed to yank himself out of her deadly grip anyway and shot to his feet.

Her sharp eyes cut as hard as the jab she delivered to his solar plexus next and Eggsy knew he wasn’t going to survive if he didn’t fight back quickly. His glasses, he realized had been smashed against the wall in the first strike so Merlin had to be activating protocol Lost Connection.

She went for another strike and he dodged it quickly, faking a throw. She went to block and he delivered his right fist into her shoulder. Not that it did anything, as she easily muffled the impact by twisting her body instantly. She went for a kick to the stomach.

Eggsy caught her ankle on an exhale and his eyes went wide as she dragged them both to the ground. But as it turned out, avading or winning was not made easier by being on the floor.

He pulled on his gymnastics training in a rather impressive move if he did say so himself, managing to finally get a solid impact to her stomach.

The tustle continued for another five minutes or so, if Eggsy had to guess before he ended up on his stomach with his hands pinned under her muscular thighs as she choked him.

“S-shite!” He cursed, gasping for breath but his vision was already getting darker at the edges. The last thing he heard was a confused question and a gentle hum.

 

~ _ c’est la vie, my boy _ ~

 

He awoke handcuffed to a chair staring into the eyes of Tony Stark. “Oliver Tumblin,” he greeted with a smile.

Eggsy grimaced, feeling a headache pounding its way steadily heavier and heavier in his skull. Of course, the man that approached him was a friend of this KGB agent, if not an accomplice himself. So that was his identity, the Kingsman one not the one granted to him by his mother, compromised.

“Mister Stark,” Eggsy responded, slowly rolling his head to test for stiffness. Oddly, he felt better -not counting the killer headache, of course- than earlier when he running off fumes. “I suppose you wish to ‘ave a chat.”

He straightened his spine against the chair and completely shed Oliver Tumblin like a jacket. Playing the meek, poor little boy was never his strong suit anyway. Stark held his Agent Stare as Roxy had deemed it after the parachute incident.

Eggsy was the first to break eye contact to check his body for anything that could used as weapon. His jacket was gone, his cufflinks and tie as well, there was an emptiness in his pockets with his Kingsman issued lock picks were, and the most obvious of his gun was not in his hulster. The glasses had been shattered, his umbrella was still on the jet as it never rained in america and showing up with it was suspicious to say the least.

Even his signet ring was missing from his finger. So nothing.

“Nah. But I have some friends who would love to talk to you.”

That response surprised the Brit but it shouldn’t have if he thought about it seriously. Stark didn’t seem the type to torture, Maybe the agent or someone well versed in the sacred act of breaking his natural rights would give him some ‘entertainment’.

Stark left through a thick metal door and Eggsy was left in silence for a moment to ponder his bonds. Tight metal handcuffs. Almost impossible to break and without his lock picks, he was kind of stuck at these people’s mercy.

“Mister Tumblin. But that’s not your name, is it?” Another man entered the room, followed very closely by the redhead. Called it, Eggsy thought.

“I plead the fifth. I hear that’s popular ‘ere, ain’t it?” Eggsy spoke through a smirk. He had undergone torture before, on multiple occasions. Waterboarding, nail pulling, burns that both fascinated and disgusted the medical bay. He seemed to have the worst luck with his missions, pinning the wrong person for the worst time.

The brunet didn’t seemed even the smallest bit amused and Eggsy was reminded vaguely of Merlin, stoic and unmoving against the strongest forces.

He followed the redhead with his eyes until she passed behind him and he froze. Just because he gone through it before didn’t mean he enjoyed or could even stand Those Missions where he came back home to Harry’s arms without a word, rendered mute for days only until Harry could coax him out.

As she appeared on his side, he felt just a little bit of tension ease from his shoulders.

He could do this. For Kingsman. For Harry Hart. For Merlin. For Rox. Just block out these memories like he did the rest and Merlin would send Yvain for him and he could go home to Harry to lick his wounds. Just wait until Merlin could get Yvain to save him.

“Who do you work for?” The woman asked and it was oddly calming, if she wasn’t his potential torturer.

Eggsy didn’t speak again.

“Who do you work for?”

“What does that ring do?”

“Why did you attend that party?”

“What were you doing following me?”

The questions kept coming, alternating between the two. But Eggsy didn’t speak. Sarcastic comments aside, he couldn’t cooperate. Just stall and Merlin would save him.

Stark returned somewhere between the twenty third question and the fortieth. Eggsy truly didn’t know when he started spacing out.

“Phil, need you. Birdbrain is attempting to set the microwave on fire and I am trying to get copious amounts of alcohol into my body before ten.”

The brunet groaned, more growl than breath and left with Stark, leaving Eggsy with only the agent.

There was silence again and he couldn’t help but feel content for a moment.

She broke the silence. “Nice hook.”

Eggsy hesitated, unsure if he really heard her. “Uh, thank you. I was kinda thrown off guard with that surprise attack back there.”

A ghost of a smile graced her lips. “Sorry. You understand, though.”

It wasn’t a question but Eggsy nodded. “Hardly the first time, Miss Romanoff.” Then he realized his mistake. “Shite.”

She didn’t look the slightest surprised as if she expected him to know her. Maybe that came with the job, Eggsy mussed. There came that comfortable silence again as she leaned against the only other furniture, a large metal table. Eggsy was starting to lose feeling in his wrists but there was no point in asking to be uncuffed.

“What is your name?” She finally asked.

This, he decided to share. “Gala’ad.”

“Natasha,” she responded. “Does HYDRA mean anything to you?”

Eggsy thought this over for a moment. “Like, that beast in my’ology? The one wit’ the heads? Ma best mate is a crazy bastard for greek myths so I deal wit’ the weirdest tales from ‘er.” He didn’t exactly mean to say the last phrase out loud but it couldn’t be too bad, right? Lots of people liked mythology. It didn’t quite pin Roxy down. Like saying his mentor liked butterflies, it wouldn’t give anything away.

Natasha seemed pleased with this answer, catching something in him that made sense. “Why are you in America, Galahad?”

Again, Eggsy didn’t really answer the question in a way that could convict his brothers in arms. At least, he hoped. “I didn’t lie to Mista Stark. Ma boss said jump so I didn’t wait to ask how ‘igh. You don’t go against Arthur, that’s how you go missing.” The last part was almost a joke but then he remembered the late Lamorak who had slipped a bomb into Harry’s office. God, his mentor was ruthless as Arthur. Responsible, caring and fair but merciless too anyone that endangered his organization, his family.

He couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face then. Good lord, Harry was going to rip these people apart. Sadly, he found himself liking this Natasha, no matter her affiliation. She reminded him strongly of an older Roxy; cold, calculated, and loyal to a fault.

“Arthur?” And of course, that's the thing she latched on. At the mention of Harry, Eggsy quickly schooled his features. “Oh, so it is like that.”

It wasn’t a question but Eggsy answered anyway. He found himself doing that a lot lately. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Art’ur is the Almighty, not Eve. You follow ‘is instruction. I don’t have any period on my own time to even consider looking at Art’ur like that.” In his fluster, he momentarily forgot his circumstances and rambled much like he did to Roxy after one too many. “Seriously, its not like ‘e would even look at me other than some scruffy kid to send ‘round the globe at his convenience. ‘M not even close to his league.”

He sounded bitter. Not that he was. No. Not at all.

The door opened but Natasha didn’t seem to care. “If you like him, what damage could telling him do? You say he’s your Almighty. Perhaps it is time for you to think yourself higher than Cain, Galahad.”

“Are you seriously giving relationship advice to our captive, Nat?”

It was yet another man, a different one this time. Has he met the whole KGB at this point? He locked his hands as well as he could and straightened his shoulders, returning to Galahad, dropping from the comfort of talking like Eggsy.

Natasha laughed humorlessly. “Clint, how long did it take you to get your head out of your ass to ask out Coulson?” She retorted, crossing her thin, misleading arms over her chest lazily. “Oh, wait, you haven’t.”

The man suddenly bristled, looking quite off-put by the implication. “We are not talking about this again. He doesn’t look at me like that and I have come to except that.” He let out a curt sigh. “ _ Anyway _ , what's your verdict?”

She didn't respond, simply standing and making her way to Eggsy. She retrieved a key and unlocked his binds.

Eggsy stared at her for a moment before stretching his arms slowly, testing the limits of his movement. It could very well be a trick. He had encountered that before in Morocco, his captor had released him just to watch him get taken down by the guards outside, claiming Eggsy had broken out on his own.

He really didn't care at this moment. He wanted to get home. No, HQ. He meant HQ. No matter the circumstances, he would keep lying to himself, to Arthur. But if he was honest, truly honest, home would be Arthur’s arms and that god-ugly cream coloured jumper Arthur insisted he wear at the older man’s flat because of that draft and the jumper’s remarkable ability to keep him warm no matter what. The jumper itself was Arthur’s but Eggsy had been given permission to wear it whenever he came over post-mission.

“Galahad?” Natasha questioned and Eggsy snapped out of it, flashing her a cocky smile.

He stood, wavering for a moment, before taking him first step. That awakened every bruise the KGB agent had given him so gracefully. “Holy Shite, Nata’a. You are truly talented.”

It was her turn to return the smirk. “I try.”

Then a beat of silence as Eggsy slowly regained  motor function, groaning the whole way. “Hey, Natasha,” he started, sending her a grin. “Could ya’ show me that shoulde’ move?”

“Come on. We have a gym downstairs.”

 

~ _ c’est la vie, ma fille~ _

 

“Holy shite.” Eggsy felt like an idiot.

As Natasha threw him easily over her shoulder for the tenth time, he was hit -not literally, as he expected- with how stupid he had been.

“Holy bloody shite. You're the Avenge’s.” The realization hit him hard and he froze at the door, watching Natasha and Clint share a silent look. He turned to Natasha and it dawned on him that he was looking at Black Widow. “But you registered KGB!” His hands flew together, clenching in his thinking position.

“Ex,” she corrected eloquently, noting instantly what was going on. “You didn't know,” she stated almost unnecessarily.

“No, I didn't bloody know! My ‘angler said you was KGB! Imma skin Merlin!” He fumed, truly pissed how this mission had went. Missing his target, getting flattened by ex-KGB, and held captive by the Avengers because neither knew they were on the same side. Then he went through yet another revelation. “Merls. God, I gotta call Merlin before he sends in Yvain.”

Clint seemed oblivious to Eggsy’s panic, simply walking over to where a tall blond was beating the non-living crap out of a steel-reinforced punching bag.

Natasha sighed. “Does this change anything?”

Eggsy thought for a moment before shaking his head. “We fight for the same cause: the people’s safety. But, Tash, I gotta use a phone. Mine broke in our tustle and if I ain't back to the tarmac by nine, ma ‘andler will send ma partner to blow sumthing up.”

“It's ten. Here.”

He caught the phone one handed but managed to smack himself in the face with his own hand, disoriented.

“Graceful.”

He sent her a playful glare.

“Don't even bother, Galahad.”

Eggsy dropped the phone. There, down the hallway, was Harry bloody Hart flanked by Tony Stark and a woman he hadn't seen before. “Arthur!” He choked out.

Natasha glanced between them for a moment and her gaze settled on Eggsy, a knowing look in her eyes.

“Galahad. Merlin lost you two hours ago, attacked by a woman who registered in our system as KGB. It took us approximately ten minutes to figure out our record was old. My apologies, Miss Romanoff.” The last statement was directed to Natasha. “During those two hours, we connected some dots and realized SHIELD was not cooperating with Kingsman on any sense, despite our good relations during the Cold War.”

The woman beside Arthur gave a confirming hum. “We apologize for the confusion, Arthur. For the future, SHIELD with be in communication with the Kingsman so this type of thing does not continue to happen.”

“I believe that would favorable for all of us, Agent May.”

Then Harry’s cutting eyes shifted to Eggsy and he felt a shiver run down his spine.

“Galahad. We will be discussing the outcome of this mission on the way back to HQ.” And then he turned and walked out, umbrella under his arm.

“Miss Romanoff.” Eggsy bowed, his heart pounding his chest. He should be frightened, mentally preparing for the punishment of rushing in, but he couldn’t focus on anything other the way Harry’s eyes looked narrowed and unreadable. “Agent May,” he repeated Harry’s words. “Pleasure making your acquaintance.”

Right before he could leave to catch up with his mentor and boss, he heard Natasha say something under her breath. “Tell him.”

 

~ _ c’est la vie _ ~

 

“I am sorry for rushing in, for not listening to Merlin before I followed Miss Romanoff.”

Eggsy felt his heart in his throat as he waited desperately for the jet to take off, only to blurt it out the second they got in the air. Harry just looked at him, look unreadable and piercing.

“Eggsy, do you know why I flew here instead of letting Yvain or Bors retrieve you?”

His name gave Eggsy pause. It was truly Harry sitting in front of him, not just Arthur. The relief was immediate. “I assume you ‘ad business in New York?” It was the most logical assumption, because even for a round table member, Arthur didn’t go into the field. He was needed at the desk to keep everything from falling to utter and complete shit.

“You, Eggsy. I went for you. I heard Merlin swearing up a story from the tech department, arranging this and that to get Yvain from the stacks and to New York to possibly retrieve your body because you took on an ex-KGB Ballet Baby, codename undisclosed. If there was anyone to drag you back home, it would be me.”

Nothing Harry said stuck. He had willingly stepped away from the desk to possibly identify Eggsy’s body? It didn’t quite make sense. Any number of agents could have taken the job. It did not, by any means, need to be Arthur himself.

“And,” he continued, not letting anything sink in, “as you and Agent Romanoff worked on your lack of upper body defensive throws, Agent May showed me something interesting. Did you know they film captive interrogations?”

Everything else cleared from Eggsy’s mind to fill naturally with pure panic. “I am so sorry, ‘arry! I didn’t mean to tell ‘er! I promise, it won’t affect my work. If you want to move me to another department, I fully under’and. I promise, ‘arry, I am so sor-”

Harry interrupted him with a raised hand. “Do you or do you not have feelings for me?”

Eggsy suddenly became very interested in the jet’s carpeting. The seat against his rolled up sleeves was too soft, too gentle, too much everything. It hurt because it didn’t hurt, not quite enough to tear his attention away from he was going to have confess. He had thought he would have at another year before he let it slip post-mission when he was the most emotionally vulnerable. He had hoped he had at least another month, another day, another hour, before it was ripped out in the open.

“Yes. I am so sorry, Ar’ur. But, I promise, Ar’ur, it won’ be a problem for work. I’ll keep my distance-”

Again, he is cut off. But this time, it is by a warm pair of lips crashing into his and his back went slamming into the chair as he fell back, tight yet gentle hands tilting his chin up. He gasped in surprise, feeling the kiss deepen at his muffled exclamation.

His eyes shot open when the other pair of lips pulled back and met Harry’s calculating gaze. “Don’t you dare,” the older man growled and Eggsy’s everything went red. His cheeks flared, his chin burning under Harry’s grip. “Don’t you dare distance yourself. I will keep you close until the day one of us enters the ground, irreversible. Got it?”

Eggsy managed a curt nod, small as not to knock Harry’s hands from his chin. His heartbeat had spiked till a pounding in his ears echoed throughout his whole body. The smile that grew in the next second was uncontrollable and too large but he didn’t care.

“Yes, Sir.”

Harry kissed him again.

 

 

 


End file.
